I turn from the window to face her fully.She’s watching me with those amber eyes that see through all my carefully constructed defenses.Before Vegas, I promised myself this was temporary.Strategic.Something we’d unwind once the immediate threat was neutralized.
But that was a lie I told myself because the truth is that I’ve been in love with this woman for longer than I want to admit.And that scares the shit out of me.
“I told you last night that I’ve changed my mind about our arrangement.I want to make this…” I pause and wiggle an index finger between us.“I want our marriage to be real.And I meant it.I’m serious.I wouldn’t have married you otherwise.”
She nods slowly, processing my words.Before she can respond, the intercom buzzes.I check the video feed and confirm Joe is here.He’s early and wearing a tracksuit, which means he must have been training at the gym around the corner.
The elevator chimes before opening its doors.Joe DiLorenzo walks into my penthouse, as he owns it.At thirty-five, he carries the weight of leadership the way our generation of mafia men were raised to.He shows the ease of someone born into power and groomed from childhood to wield it.His black curls fall over his broad forehead as if his fingers have combed them too many times on the way here.His black tracksuit bears the logo of a high-end Italian designer.But it’s his thunderous expression that betrays his real feelings.
His deep-set brown eyes go straight to Serena.He doesn’t seem surprised to find her in my apartment, which makes me wonder if Joe had sensed our feelings for each other before we were even aware of them.He scans her face until he’s apparently satisfied that she’s physically fine.Then, he turns to me.Even though his frown has eased slightly, the violence in his tense muscles makes my hand instinctively move toward the Glock I keep at the back of my pants.
“Explain,” he demands.
“I married your sister,” I reply, no point dancing around it.“Yesterday in Las Vegas.It was her request, and I agreed.”
Joe’s jaw clenches so hard I can see the muscle working.He looks at Serena.“Is this true?”
“Yes,” she says, and her voice is steady in a way that commands respect.“I asked him to marry me, and he said yes.”
“Why?”The question is directed at me, not at her.
“Because she was trapped,” I say.“Your father signed the contract promising her to Cesare Dellamare without her consent.She asked for my help, and I gave it.”
Joe turns to Serena again.“You could have come to me.I could’ve helped you.”
“Like you did at that breakfast when Dad announced the engagement?”Her tone is more matter-of-fact than accusatory.
Still, I notice Joe swallowing hard a couple of times before adding, “You could’ve asked me to talk to Dad.”
“He wouldn’t have listened.”There’s a finality in her tone that suggests she’s already thoroughly processed this fact.“You know that.He wasn’t going to change his decision for my sake.This marriage was the only option I had left.”
Joe paces away from us, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.I watch him digest this information, run through the political implications, the family ramifications, and the personal betrayal he might feel at not being consulted.
When he turns back to face me, his expression is controlled but no less dangerous.He pokes my sternum with an index finger as he murmurs, “If this is a play, if you’re using my sister for some political maneuvering or any reason other than genuine care for her well-being, I will cut off your dick and feed it to my dogs.Capisce?”His use of Italian tells me all I need to know about his state of mind.He’s almost out of it.
Plus, the threat is delivered in such a flat tone that it carries more weight than any shouting could.This is Joe at his most dangerous.I’ve seen him like this countless times.It always reminds me why he commands respect in the Syndicate despite being younger than most of the established power players.
“I understand,” I answer in English what he has asked me in Italian.“And just soyouunderstand, I’m serious about Serena and this marriage.”I switch my focus from Joe’s angry face to Serena’s lovely one.I hold her stare as I announce, “I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I didn’t have feelings for her.”
“Words are cheap,” Joe observes, and I snap my eyes back to him.He adds, “Actions are what really matter.And your action was marrying my sister without family approval or consent.That’s not the action of someone who respects Serena or her family.”
“You’re right.I should’ve come to you first,” I concede, because arguing the point would only make things worse.“I should’ve done this properly if the circumstances were different.But Serena needed protection, and I could provide it.”
Joe studies me for a long moment.He’s a protective older brother first, a businessman second, and a criminal third.He’s assessing whether I’m a liability or an asset, whether keeping me alive serves his interests or threatens them.
“The marriage stays,” he says finally.“It’s done.It’s legal, and undoing it now would cause more problems than leaving it in place.But Shelby—“ He steps closer, invading my personal space in a deliberate assertion of dominance.“—you hurt her, you betray her, you make her regret trusting you, and I will make sure your death is slow, creative, and excruciating.Got it?”
“Crystal clear,” I say, meeting his gaze steadily.I don’t flinch.I don’t look away because I don’t have anything to hide.But also because, in our world, showing fear in front of someone like Joe is basically signing your own death warrant.
He nods once, apparently satisfied.Then he turns to Serena and pulls her into a tight hug that’s somehow both fierce and protective.
“Are you okay?”he asks quietly, and there’s genuine concern in his tone.
“I’m fine,” she says, and I watch her relax slightly in her brother’s embrace.“I’m more than fine, actually.I’m relieved.”
Joe pulls back and studies her face.“You’re happy about this?”
“Yes,” she says, nodding.
